


So what if I do?

by qwertysweetea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bullying, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Marauders' Era, Realization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 06:16:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12126333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwertysweetea/pseuds/qwertysweetea
Summary: Sirius is asked if he loves him, in that jesting spite bullies use when they think they have you in a corner, and everything about Sirius said no... accept that fact that he doesn't.Remus may ignore the negativity thrown his way but Sirius sure as Hell won't, which leads to some undiscovered feelings coming to light.





	So what if I do?

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this came from. I didn't even ship it 'til last night. I don't know what happened but I'm glad it did.

Kids were kids, and a lot of kids at their age were products of their upbringing. He understood it was a pathetic excuse on their parts, but of all the things Remus was happy to spend his time on, delving into the motives and reasons behind the actions of some seasonal bullies was not one of them.

All Remus knew, in his own mind, was that he wasn’t going to rise to the occasional bouts of derogatory crap he found himself the target of when they had nothing better to do with their time.

He had faced bigger challenges, dealt with far harsher restrictions, and from a young age had been preparing to fight his corner when it came to his “condition”. Fifteen-year-old boys throwing around the q-slur was irritating but mostly ignorable.

He knew what he was and so did the family he’d made for himself there. Everything else could remain speculation and everyone else could remain guessing, or assuming, or stirring. Water off a duck's back; he let it roll over him without as much as a glance in their direction.

Then there was Sirius, who’d never quite learned how to let it hit him without recoiling from the blow. Hitting him with words was like hitting him with a fist; if you weren’t close enough to him to pretend it was a quip then you were going to get hit back.

“Ignore it.” He tells him again.

“I am.” But Sirius is glaring at them from the side of his eye and his jaw is tense. Remus couldn’t see his fists but he could place a winning bet on them being clenched, white-knuckled and itching with the effort to say nothing.

Then Sirius is asked if he loves “the nerd” in that jesting spite bullies use when they think they have you in a corner, and everything about Sirius said no- from his confrontational stance and squared shoulders, to the slight grimace only given away by the gentle press of his eyebrows under his scruffy black fringe; everything said no except... he didn't, and it ripped the air out of Remus’ lungs in the way which is so often described as pleasant to the romantic masses.

To him, it feels like choking on a mass of nothing, like trying to breathe in airless space.

“So what if I do?”

Shameless to the core, thoughtless beyond that. Anything to stir up those he thinks need to be stirred, and shock those he thinks need to be shocked. Remus is starting to think he’d do or say anything to shed himself of the reputation that follows him with his name subconsciously, without meaning to, and in spite of everything else. Then another part of him becomes disappointed for thinking it, because he knows Sirius would do or say anything in defense of his friends.

Of course Sirius didn’t love him. Not like that. Sirius didn’t love anyone like that. He’s not surprised at the confession or how little he means it; he’s not choked by the fact that had he been there to hear and not see, without the screaming truth to his friend’s entire demeanour, he could have almost been fooled by the raw honesty in his voice...

He choked with the ease at which Sirius says it-

Rehearsed, but not. Perfected, but not. Something which Remus felt like he should have heard over and over again in sincerity, and bravery, and love. Defending him. Defending them.

“So what if I love him? Or kiss him? Or fuck him? Or let him braid my hair? What business is it of yours, huh?”

He feels like he should move, intervene, because he knows Sirius and he knows that Sirius will take it as far as he needs to, even if that means someone getting hurt. But his body was slow at connecting thought with action, and he’s stood there a moment longer with mouth slightly open and head feeling as heavy as his chest. His cheeks are hot but he doesn’t know whose attention to accredit it too.

When it connects he takes the step forward and he hesitates only slightly when putting his hand on his friend's shoulder, and his voice cracks only a little on his first few words when he says “Come on Pads, he’s not worth it.”

Sirius doesn’t even turn to look at him, which he thinks he is grateful for because he truly doesn’t know how he would have felt if he’d been looking into his friends grey eyes when he bites out “Well maybe you are.”

And there it is again: the void in his lungs, throat collapsing in on itself. He pants out a breath which anybody else could mistake for frustration, but the two of them know that it’s not and that’s what it takes for Sirius to finally tear his eyes away from the boys and their pathetic words.

Sirius’ eyes dart over his face, his own expression morphing from confusion to concern to a sinfully soft understanding. He didn’t need to be a Legilimens to read Remus, he knows him and sees him:

He can see how overcome he is, and how much it hurts, and how confused he feels, and how much he wants it, and how guilty he feels for wanting it. To everyone else they are as they have always been: a little too close and staring a little longer than they should, faces focused in silent communication, only this time it’s something new, and something neither really understands even when they both feel they could.

“We’re going to be late,” Remus affirms when it becomes clear that Sirius is unsure how to reply anymore. Whatever is going on in his head has him paralysed. “Sirius…” This time the move is not tentative when he places his hand back on the other’s shoulder, pressing firmly to bring him back to the present “...let’s go.”

Sirius gives a small plastered on smile; he doesn’t try to make it convincing for Remus, there would be no point. “Come on then babe,” he nods “let’s get to Divination.”


End file.
